Date: Thu, 22 Dec 2005 08:44:07 -0500
From: Herb Cat
Subject: Transformation pt 3
Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without
the author's permission.
Please note: the twelve parts of this story depict sex between males,
between minors and between adults and minors. They depict oral, anal and
vaginal sex as well as incest, rape, sadomasochism and transvestitism. If
any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or
you are under the age of 18, read no further.
All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.
Summer, Year 1
When school ended, my routines of course changed, but that did not mean
there was any letup in what Keith expected from me. Just the reverse.
Summer was especially hot that year and we spent a lot of time at the town
pool. Usually, we got up in the morning and went down to breakfast about
9. Dad had already gone to work and Mom was usually out running
errands. When they were both out of the house, I had to serve Keith
naked. I fried his eggs, poured his juice, toasted his bread, while my
little dick kept dancing in front of me. Keith even took pictures of me
with his digital camera. He threatened to post them on the internet if I
crossed him. I didn't.
I did my morning chores and his, while Keith called his buddies on the
phone and talked about their latest cunt-quests. Or he'd just sit and
listen to MTV, or play with Spike, or look at Dad's skin mags. When all our
work was done, I'd make us lunch. Usually by then, Keith was feeling frisky
and he'd yank at my little dick or finger my asshole or just tweak my
boytits. I never complained.
Then we showered. I had to kneel in the shower and take the washcloth and
lather and scrub Keith's legs and feet. Then his cock and balls, and
between his thighs. There was a seat molded into one corner of the
shower. Keith would turn his back to me, put one foot up on the seat and
make me scrub his asshole, even pushing my cloth-covered finger inside
it. Then he had me stand and soap and scrub his back. He did his own chest
and pits, but when he finished I had to lick the pits. When he stepped out,
I was given two minutes to get myself clean. He knew if he gave me any
longer, I'd start jerking off in there.
One day, after we'd done this routine a few weeks, I was scrubbing Keith's
thighs when he suddenly let out a sigh. The next thing I knew he was
pissing in my face. I don't know why I did it, but I opened my mouth. "Oh,
you like that, prickhead?" Every day after that, during his shower, he
pissed in my mouth. Sometimes, throughout the day, I'd be washing the
dishes or something and Keith would come over and softly say, "I gotta
piss." Then I'd stop whatever I was doing, accompany him to the bathroom,
kneel beside the toilet and open my mouth. I began to crave his piss. I
thirsted for it.
Another time in the shower when he had his foot up on the seat and I was
cleaning his asshole, he let out a fart right in my face. I didn't
react. He then told me to stick my nose in his ass. I did. Then he told me
to lick his asshole, and I did that too. The fart and the rim job also
became part of the daily shower routine.
After our shower, we'd put our swimsuits on. Keith had a jock on under
his. I'd never worn a jock in my life. I would get sneakers and a shirt for
each of us, and grab his wallet (I'd make sure he had a condom in case he
got lucky at the pool). We'd head out the door and walk quickly to the
pool. Sure enough, as I had predicted, I was this year's new bitch pup. I
put sunscreen on Keith's back, I gave him his towel, I brought everyone
cokes and hot dogs. I did whatever Keith told me. And I loved it. I basked
in the humiliation.
One time, when we both were in the pool, I was floating on my back and
Keith came swimming over. "What the hell is this?" he said and swatted my
dick which was tenting my suit.
"Hey, that hurt!"
"You can't go around like a damn sailboat with your fuckin mast up."
"I can't help it. I try to keep it pushed down, but in the water it comes
back up again."
"C'mon, prickhead. You're embarrassing me. Let's get out of here." I
quickly followed him out of the pool and tried to hide my tentpole from all
the girls. We didn't even take time to dry off, just grabbed our stuff and
ran home. Keith told me to put on some tighty whities and my jeans and get
some clothes out for him. Dressed, he told me to get the bike. We had only
one bike. We could each ride it to go places, but Keith always had dibs on
it. If we went somewhere together, I rode on the handlebar. I liked
that. But Keith said from now on, I had to pedal and he'd ride on the
handlebar. My skinny legs struggled to get the bike moving, but eventually
I got enough momentum to keep us upright. Keith had me take him to Edwards'
sport shop. Inside the store, he took me to the jock section. Right there
in the aisle, he reached inside my jeans and turned over the waist to read
the size inside, in the process giving me a painful wedgy. Having noted my
jeans size, he began to check the various jocks. Keith was very familiar
with all the different styes. He always wore one that pulled his package up
and forward and put it out there for the world to see. That wasn't the
style he had in mind for me. Instead he selected one that would push my
package down and out of sight. "This is your size, go pay for it." It
looked awful small to me, but redfaced I took it to the cashier and got
change of a twenty.
Back home, he had me strip naked and then put the jock on. "Hey, I was
right. This is way too small. It's really tight, Keith." My dick and balls
felt like canned sardines.
"That's the idea, prickhead. Your stupid willy ain't going to embarrass me
again. You're going to wear that all the time, you hear me?"
"Yes, Boss, every time we go swimming."
"No, I said all the time, prickhead. At the pool, at home, under your
swimsuit, under your underpants, under your clothes, and in bed too, all
the time. And you'll wear it when you serve me naked. You'll even wear it
in the shower. That way it'll get washed. You got that?" and he swatted my
head to make sure it sank it.
"Yes, Boss. All the time, Boss." And I did.
As the summer went on, Keith took more and more delight in ordering his
jocked slave around. He was getting lots of mail, ^Ö packages he was
ordering from fitness catalogs. Every time the mailman left a box on our
porch, I had to go out there and retrieve it in just my jock, hoping the
neighbors weren't watching. Also when the paper landed on our porch, I had
to fetch that too. I'd crack open the door, see that the paperboy had gone,
then run out in my jock, grab the paper and dash back inside. Apparently,
one day the paperboy had not completely left our block and he saw what I
did. The next day, he hid on the other side of our hedge to make sure he
had seen what he thought he saw. Each day, after that his throwing arm got
weaker and weaker and the paper would land further away from the door,
until it was landing halfway down our sidewalk. I knew now he was watching,
^Ö in fact, he wasn't hiding any longer; he just stood by his bike and
waited each day to see the jock-assed boy run and get his paper. One day,
he brought along his younger sister to watch the show. I told myself it
didn't matter. This is what Keith wanted.
At the pool, it was easier. I wore my swimsuit over my jock. And as for the
subservience, everyone in our group knew this was the way to treat the
bitch pup. Keith let the boys as well as his bitches give me orders. When
Keith had to piss, I went with him. One time Jimmy came along also and
witnessed Keith's human urinal. After that, I was told to go with any boy
who had to piss.
There was a discussion among the circle one day about cock sizes. Keith
called "wall" and I was ordered to stand in the middle and take down my
suit. Everyone took a look at my jock.
"Hell, there's nothing in there," remarked one of the girls.
"Well, nothing worth talking about but it's there," Keith told her, and
then to prove it to her, he told her to feel my package. She came over and
squeezed my little dick. I winced. But a female hand did nothing for my
libido. She didn't make it any bigger than it was. I had discovered the
only way I could achieve a hardon, was to think about Keith. In fact, I had
torn up Linda's picture and put Keith's in my wallet instead. I knew I was
a fag boy.
Acting on those urges was not an easy thing however. One day in the shower,
as I was kneeling and washing Keith's balls, I leaned forward and licked
his dick. Then I waited. He didn't resist. So I opened my lips and took his
cock in. I remembered watching the previous summer's bitch pup give Jimmy
his first bj. I closed my eyes and tried to remember just how she did
it. Suddenly, Keith's cock was rock solid and pulsating. He grabbed my head
and humped my face. Soon I was swallowing cum. A week later I was inside
the wall sucking on Jimmy so everyone could see what an obedient little
cocksucker I was.